No Slithereen May Fail
by Vandemarr
Summary: His anger is fiercer than it has ever been (even in the heat of battle) when he returns to their quarters in the Guard barracks, but it disappears the moment he pushes the door open (it is unlocked) and catches sight of her. In its place comes despair. Slardar/Naga, AU.


**No Slithereen May Fail**

The crowd parts before him as he pushes himself onward, tail churning through the water. The Guards at the gate snap to attention and the heavy iron aperture widens with the grinding of metal. He does not wait for it to open fully, instead launching himself through the gap as soon as it is wide enough for him to enter.

He doesn't have much time.

His anger is fiercer than it has ever been (even in the heat of battle) when he returns to their quarters in the Guard barracks, but it disappears the moment he pushes the door open (it is unlocked) and catches sight of her. In its place comes despair.

_Abyss take me. It is true._

She has been stripped of her gilded plate and inlaid blades; the swords and armor of the lowliest guard adorn her now. Her ink-markings, displaying her status as a citizen of the Sunken Cities and commander of a hundred of her fellows, have been scalded off her scales. The bells (a gift from him, when he first brushed fins with her and felt his heart nearly burst from his chest as she returned the gesture) are gone, and he feels their loss most keenly of all.

The anger returns, stronger than before. _All this for one chalice! _She spins around, surprise on her face. It seems he's not managed to keep his thoughts to himself.

Her surprise quickly turns to sorrow. "Yes," she says. "One chalice was missing." Her voice, clear and high, is as enchanting as always, and for a moment he nearly forgets why he's here.

Then he remembers, and words he's been putting together for the entirety of his journey burst out. _It doesn't matter that she and her Guard were taken by surprise, yet turned back nearly twice their number of marauders? It doesn't matter that she slew the enemy commander and his retinue, and broke the Black Standard for the first time in a hundred years? If none of this matters, perhaps… _

The Compulsion floods his body. Every nerve in his body tingles.

Be fruitful. Multiply. Keep the oceans safe, cleanse the depths and shallows alike of all who the Old Ones deem unnecessary. And above all…

She completes his thoughts, saying those damnable four words. "It is how it is, lover mine," she goes on. "I am sorry." The agony on her face is clear, but he can also see the acceptance beneath. And that scares him the most.

He struggles against the Compulsion with all his will, and he can move again. _Maybe the vow shouldn't matter. If he can defy the Compulsion, so can she. They can…_

She shakes her head slowly.

_It's a suicide mission, the quest they're sending her on – the levianths will tear her apart. She doesn't have to do this. They can head for shallower waters. He has contacts in every city under the waves; he has money and identities prepared for situations like these. They can disappear; leave this all behind. They can still be together. Please!_

She presses herself against him in a motion too quick for his eyes to follow – some of the Guard swear she is as fast as a riptide. He has seen her in battle; they are wrong.

She is faster.

They touch fins, the act as natural as breathing. "I cannot," She says. She calls him by his birth name – the name given to him by his brood-mother while he rested in the red warmth of his egg, not the one he chose for himself upon reaching maturity – and asks that he understand her decision.

"It is not about the Compulsion – I learnt to defy it long ago," she says, a hint of the old fire surfacing in her eyes. He is unsurprised; her will has always been the stronger. "It is about honor and duty. This is who I am, and this is what I must do."

_What honor and duty lie in serving the whims of those who have not woken in an age? Is your honor more important than me? Is your duty more important than what we have built together? _

He is careful not to say these thoughts out loud, for the asking and the answering of his questions will lead only to hurt. Both his and hers.

He knows her too well.

Instead, he wraps his arms around her waist and holds her tight. She tilts her head and bites his lip softly, and for a time there is nothing else in the world but him and her.

~~a~~

He doesn't know what to say as she unwinds herself from him. He strains his ears to hear her humming while she packs. He watches her with his famed tracker's eyes, trying to capture every moment they have left together. _It's not fair_, he thinks. _We should have had more time. We should have had a lifetime._

As she dons her armor and prepares to leave, a thought strikes him. _Maybe we can both go and seek the chalice together. _He puts the idea forth, and she laughs. "The Guard needs you here. You are in command now, and if you leave with me you leave them vulnerable."

_Locating and grooming a replacement will take a year. Maybe two._ He says as much and she turns away, hiding her face.

"I'll be back by then," she says with absolute certainty. "Keep the Guard in shape until I return, you hear me?" Her voice trembles. "That's an–That's my last order to you."

He is absolutely certain that she's lying. O_ne lost chalice in an infinite ocean? It might not even _be_ in the ocean any more. The land-dwellers' hunger for the treasures of the deep is insatiable._

Somehow, she senses his doubt without looking. "I, too, have my contacts. It will take time, but everything leaves a trail, and a determined enough tracker can pick it up." She turns back to him and smiles faintly. The sight breaks his heart. "You of all people should know that, yes?"

He nods.

"Well then!" She claps her hands together, and her smile gains strength while losing all sincerity. "The trail grows fainter by the second, and I'm afraid you'll only hinder my packing. May the seas be calm and the currents favorable." She offers the traditional parting words.

He tries to say something in return, but the words clump together in his throat. He raises a hand in farewell and turns to leave. He's almost at the door when she cries out, almost desperately:

"Wait!"

He stops and turns again.

"This is selfish of me, but it would mean everything to me if you told me one last time that you– that–" She cuts herself off. "I have no right! I am sorry, so very sorry to have failed you…" Her voice breaks, and she buries her head in her hands. He surges forward, but she halts him with an outstretched arm.

"If you stay, I will lose what little resolve I have left. Please, leave me."

_Would that be so bad?_ He considers going against her wishes – considers making another plea for her to change her mind, considers going to the elders to see if there's anything they can do about her vow, considers pushing her arm aside and grabbing her and never letting go–

She shakes her head. She knows him too well. So he says what he thinks she wants him to, then heads for the door.

Four Guards – her erstwhile subordinates – are waiting outside with a pair of manacles. They cast him a worried glance, probably in fear that he will attack.

He does not. What would be the point? If she had uttered even a single reluctant word or given him the slightest inclination that she wanted to escape, he would stain the Sunken Cities red for her. He may not have her speed, but his strength has no equal in these shallows.

But she didn't. So he pushes past them and heads for the city exit.

From the room behind him, he thinks he can hear singing.

~Fin~


End file.
